


Trojan Lover

by Run_of_the_mill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't go around diagnosing if you don't have a medical licence, Established Relationship, Ineffective armchair diagnosis, M/M, Non professional diagnosis of mental illness, Possession, Voldemort is NOT Tom, Voldemort is a bad dude, Voldemort is an Egyptian Witch Prince, seriously, they get married, tom and harry love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 13:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Run_of_the_mill/pseuds/Run_of_the_mill
Summary: Harry and Tom are sweethearts from their Hogwarts years. After ten years of dating, they get married, to everyone's approval. They move to Greater Hangleton and Harry works as an Auror while Tom takes Curse-Breaking contracts for the goblins. Life is idyllic.Until Egypt."You know of Apep," said Voldemort. "You know of ı͗zft. But what can you do about it if you are not alive, anymore?"





	Trojan Lover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exarite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exarite/gifts).



> This is all happening because of Exarite. Don't be blaming me.
> 
> Also, someone on discord made me a sketch of Prince Voldemort. You'll see it at the bottom of the work since I didn't want to spoil the surprise. It's like they read my mind!
> 
> It's been pointed out to me that the discussion of mental illness in the middle of the story might be tone-deaf. If it appears to be so, i'm very sorry if it offends you. I do intend for it to sound mildly tone-deaf because this is a non-medical professional diagnosing based on some things that they've heard from an actual professional. I do hope I didn't hurt your feelings too badly. It's important to remember that the views of the characters do not necessarily represent how I feel about specific issues.

Tom looked at the daisy and it looked back, tempting him into silliness. He probably looked mad, glaring at an innocent flower as if it had offended him to the highest degree. But, he was Tom Riddle. People should be assuming that the flower _h_ _ad_ offended him, somehow.

Slowly, very slowly, he bent down to pick it, making sure to look around to ensure no one saw him. Once he had the daisy, he high-tailed out of there to the relative intimacy of his dorm room. No one else was there. Good. He climbed into bed and closed the curtains behind him.

"It's just you and me, daisy," said Tom to the flower. "Best answer me truthfully. So tell me: He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not."

"Who loves you not?" whispered someone, next to his ear. Tom jumped and tossed the plucked daisy over the side of his bed. Harry grinned at him and picked it up. There was only one petal left. He plucked the last petal and said: "I guess he loves you."

"Harry, what the hell?" hissed Tom. "You can't be here. This is Slytherin. Go back to your own dorms."

"But I wanted to see my best mate," argued Harry. "So? Who's this boy that probably loves you, according to the flower?"

"None of your business," snapped Tom, flushing red.

"None of my business?" asked Harry with a raised eyebrow. "I'm your best mate. _Everything_  about you is my business."

"Well, not this," said Tom. "Besides, it's not even true. The flower is an idiot. He doesn't love me. He can't. He likes girls."

"Oh," said Harry, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "I'm sorry for that. Do I know him?"

"You know everyone, Harry," said Tom, gathering his knees to his chest. He felt a bit pathetic, discussing his doomed crush with the subject of it. Ugh! If only he had *some* of that Gryffindor courage.

"Don't want to tell me?" asked Harry. When Tom shook his head and buried it in his knees, Harry crawled up to him and wrapped the whole of him in his long, strong arms.

"It's so unfair," whined Tom.

"Maybe, and hear me out before you diss it," said Harry. "Maybe, you could still confess. Get it off your chest. You might feel better. You'll certainly move on faster. Especially if he turns out to be a dirtbag."

"Dirtbags are useful," said Tom. "Don't diss dirtbags."

"Alright," said Harry. "Maybe he's scum! Maybe he's the worst sort of arse you've ever met! That should get you over him quick."

"But he's so nice to me," said Tom.

"Nicer than me?" asked Harry with a frown.

"Maybe," said Tom.

"Oh, we have a problem," said Harry pulling up his shirtsleeves. "I want a name. Someone needs a dressing down." Tom didn't know what sort of Gryffindor ghost possessed him but it did and what he said next was both the thing he regretted the least and the one he regretted the most in his entire lifetime.

"Harry Potter."

Harry stared at him for several seconds, processing what he'd just said. He went through a variety of expressions. First, he frowned. Then, he blushed. After that, he paled. Then, looked suspicious. Finally, he circled back to blushing. Maybe Tom had a chance, after all.

"Is Harry.exe still functioning?" asked Tom, trying not to laugh.

"It might have crashed," said Harry. "Me? Really? Are you pulling my leg?"

"I'm not," said Tom. Immediately Harry's face split in a wide grin. He beamed at Tom and it was official. The flower was right. "He loves me."

"Uh-huh," agreed Harry. "He loves you."

They began dating after that. There was a lot of fumbling and a lot of confusion. And, they had to deal with Tom's homophobic dad who turned out to be more tolerant than they thought he'd be when he was faced with losing Tom forever.

But, ten years later, they were still together and had stable jobs. So, really, Tom shouldn't have been surprised when Harry got down on one knee. He shouldn't have been surprised when Dad asked what flowers he would prefer, either. He definitely shouldn't have been surprised when Nan and Granddad showed up to his wedding and Dad was sobbing as if he was giving away his daughter.

"You act like you'll never see me again," chuckled Tom as he patted the older man's back. "I'm only moving to Greater Hangleton. Really, Harry's parents should be crying harder."

"I wish your mum was here," said Dad as he blew his nose.

"Me too," said Tom, sadly.

The house in Greater Hangleton was small. There was just him and Harry, after all, and they could not have children.

"You don't want to adopt?" asked Harry.

"I don't think I want children," admitted Tom. "Not right now, anyways. We're too busy. I'm always travelling around for curse-breaking and you're an auror. Either of us could die at the drop of a hat. Do you really want to bring a child into this dynamic?" Harry hummed in thought and nodded.

"You're right, of course," he allowed, at length.

And so, life continued in idyllic peace. Tom would go around the world, contracted by the goblins, and Harry would be all over England, pursuing the worst of wizarding England. Everything was perfect.

Until Egypt.

Tom had been contracted to break a curse on an ancient sarcophagus the goblins had found in a small pyramid that had escaped the muggles' notice. When he got there, he was presented with the most magnificent thing he'd ever seen.

It was shaped like a serpent coiled several times over and holding the tip of its own tail in its mouth. A round sarcophagus the likes of which Tom had never seen before. The wood was inlaid with slats of jade and golden vines and there were two egg-sized rubies where the serpent's eyes should have been. It was obvious why the goblins wanted Tom to break the curse on it so badly, they were willing to pay a thousand galleons for it.

The curse was no simple feat either. Tom had felt it thrumming from all the way outside the pyramid, just waiting for someone to come and defile whoever's tomb this was.

According to Nuzrath, the translator they'd hired, this tomb belonged to an ancient prince named Voldemort. He'd been executed by his Pharaoh father for practicing witchcraft and using several princesses as sacrifices for his evil rituals.

"He'd have been let off with a tap on the wrist if they'd been peasant girls," muttered Nuzrath. Tom had to agree with her. Even today, no one cared if the girls being harmed were poor. But, gosh, if they were rich or celebrities, or both, watch the world go up in arms.

The curse had a simple goal. To keep one from opening the sarcophagus. And to kill anyone who tried, of course

"What nonsense," said Nuzrath, as she reached a particular set of hieroglyphs.

"What is it?" asked Tom, even as he continued to look for an exploitable chink in the curse's composition. The whole thing had been wrought very carefully and very cleverly by whoever had cast it.

"These people are full of shit," said Nuzrath. She was frowning at the glyphs and reading her notes over and over again, comparing them to the carvings on the wall. "It says here: Beware, you who dare defile this tomb. Beware the Prince of Snakes. For he slumbers for a thousand years and dead, he is not. He is calamity. He is disaster. He is the end of the world! Can you believe this? How could someone live without food or water for thousands of years? Serious nonsense, I tell you." Nuzrath was muggle.

And Tom had just finished undoing the curse.

As soon as the curse was lifted, the sarcophagus' round lid blasted off, flying neatly into the space between Tom and Nuzrath. Nothing happened.

"Tell me he's not one of your kind," whispered Nuzrath. "In fact, tell me none of your kind is immortal."

"Not usually," said Tom, gripping his wand tighter as he waited for the other shoe to drop. Nuzrath looked at him, clearly alarmed. Carefully, he approached the sarcophagus. When he reached the lip of it, he knew the warnings must have been true.

For inside the sarcophagus, curled into fetal position, was a wide-eyed young man. Prince Voldemort.

"Ya Allah," breathed Nuzrath. "He's _awake,_ the poor thing." The Prince turned his head, following the sound of her voice. His stare was glassy and his once-handsome face was gaunt, cheeks sunken it. He was so emmaciated, he was skin and bones. And he remained awake.

"Did you misread?" asked Tom, glancing at Nuzrath. "You said he was asleep."

"No," said Nuzrath, shaking her head. "The carvings clearly said he was slumbering."

"Fuck," murmured Tom. "They must have miscast the spell."

"Are you saying he's been awake for _thousands of years_?" asked Nuzrath, pitch progressively rising with each word. "Ya Allah! That's- That's horrible!"

Tom nodded in agreement. The sheer damage and trauma this man must have undergone was nothing he could quite wrap his mind around. The healers would have their work cut out for them.

"For now," said Tom, "help me get him out of here." They reached for the Prince at the same time. But as soon as they touched his skin, several things happened at once.

The Prince's eyes came back into focus. He locked eyes with Tom and the latter immediately burst into screams. The pain was all-encompassing and Tom imagined that this was what the cruciatus felt like. Distantly, he saw Nuzrath scream as well. Her eyes bled and Tom felt a matching wetness on his own raw skin. Soon enough, Nuzrath let go of Prince Voldemort and fell to the floor in a heap.

 _Filthy mundane_ , Tom heard inside his head. He instantly knew the voice was speaking of Nuzrath. The pain intensified as Tom felt a foreign presence invading his mind. _Powerful. You will do._

And Tom fainted.

***

Tom woke up, gasping for air. Everything around him was white and sterile. Everything except his husband, sleeping in the chair next to him with his chin tucked into his chest.

_Husband?_

Tom shot up, looking around for the source of the voice. But there was only he and Harry in the room. Jostled, Harry woke up, jumping into a defensive stance, wand in his hand. When it became clear that nothing was wrong, Harry sat back in the chair and gave Tom a tired smile.

"Sorry, love," apologised Harry. "Been a bit jumpy, recently. Greyback strikes again!"

"Didn't you take care of him last month?" asked Tom, rubbing a hand over his face. He settled back into the bed, yawning and reaching for Harry's hand. Harry took it and brought Tom's fingers to his lips.

"Idiocy can't be cured," stated Harry, simply. "It's like 99% of the werewolves were born with brains and somehow, Greyback got skipped."

_Werewolves!_

There it was again! Tom sat up, looking for the man whose voice this most certainly was. Prince Voldemort.

"Love?" asked Harry.

 _Quiet! Do not speak of me!_  ordered Voldemort. He was inside, Tom realised in growing horror. He was in Tom's head, in his mind! Tom attempted to ignore the order. He opened his mouth to tell Harry but his tongue twisted back as if he was cursed with a tongue-twisting spell.

 _Spells! You have spells!_  hissed Voldemort in wonder. _Is he a witch, too? Your- your_  husband? _He is a witch, is he not?_

Tom did not answer. Instead, he screwed his face, attempting to move his muscles so that he could tell Harry about his little parasite.

_I am no parasite!_

"I'm going to look for a healer," said Harry, shaking his head in worry. Tom watched in frustration as he ran out of the room.

 _I own your soul_ , laughed Voldemort. _Nothing can leave your mouth without my permission_.

"No," breathed Tom.

_Yes._

"He can't speak," said Harry, striding back into the room. A healer, in lime green robes, followed closely behind. He opened Tom's mouth and shone the tip of his wand into it.

"Nothing seems to be the matter," said the Healer. "Say something for me."

"Something," said Tom.

"Well, he speaks just fine," said the healer, turning back to Harry. Harry frowned and cupped Tom's cheek, bringing their faces level to each other.

"Are you truly well?" asked Harry, still looking worried, despite the Healer's assurance.

 _So strong,_  hissed Voldemort. _I want him. Say yes. Tell him you are well._

"Yes," said Tom, feeling disgusted at the thought of Voldemort wanting his Harry. "I'm fine."

 _He is mine, now,_ hissed Voldemort. _Just as you are_.

***

Months went by and Voldemort grew steadily stronger. He was a constant part of Tom's every-day life and was especially interested in his marriage to Harry.

 _Beautiful man_ , hissed Voldemort. _I would have made him a Royal concubine. I would have graced his bed every night. How good it feels when he fucks you. Spread your legs more often, you stupid wench!_

"Get out of my head!" screamed Tom. "He's not yours. He's mine _,_ you hear me? _My_  husband. _My_  love. _My_ life. You won't have him. You'll _never_  have him!" But Tom could not stop the demon from intruding in his marriage bed. He enjoyed Harry at the same time Tom did. It was disgusting. It made Tom feel filthy. And as a result, sex became less and less regular for Tom and Harry.

It worried Harry, Tom knew. He tried to come home earlier and more often, worrying that Tom was falling out of love that he would start looking elsewhere. Tom did not know what to do to make him feel better. He still loved Harry and still wanted to bed him. But not with an unwelcome third wheel that lusted for his husband.

One morning, Harry was leaving for work and Tom was watching him tie his shoelaces. He looked so downtrodden and Tom knew it was all his fault. He'd refused sex, again, last night and it had been weeks since last time.

"Harry," called Tom, just as he was reaching for the doorknob. Harry turned around, looking slightly dazed.

"Ah, yes," he said. "Forgot the goodbye kiss." He walked up to Tom and pecked him on the lips.

"Well, yes," said Tom when Harry leaned back. "But, I just- I just wanted to say... I still love you, Harry. More than anything." Harry stared at him for a moment, looked away, then back, then, finally, at his feet.

"I don't understand," murmured Harry. "I just feel like- like something's between us. Are you- are you sure you still love me?"

"Yes!" insisted Tom. "There's no doubt in my mind about that."

"Then _why?"_ demanded Harry. "What am I doing _wrong?_ Is- is the sex not good anymore?"

"No, that's not-" Tom sighed in frustration. "That's not it, Harry. The sex is good. It's amazing, even. It's- something happened. In Egypt."

_Watch your mouth, peasant!_

But Tom did not mind him because, as soon as he mentioned Egypt, Harry's face shut down and his expression became darker. What was that about?

"Fleur warned me this might happen," muttered Harry.

"What might happen?" asked Tom.

"You cheated on me, didn't you?" accused Harry. "And now, you're feeling all guilty about it, like an idiot."

 _"What?!"_ screeched Tom. "What the fuck, Harry? Is that all the trust you have in me?"

 _What did you expect?_  hissed Voldemort. _You are a young man and you keep refusing to have sex with the most perfect man in this world. If I were him, I would also think you were being an adulterous harlot._

"If you didn't cheat, then what?" asked Harry. "What happened in Egypt?"

"It's not sex-related!" snapped Tom. "It's- it happened in the tomb and-" Here, he was cut off by his tongue rolling back into his mouth, painfully. He whimpered in pain, causing Harry to rush to his side.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, rubbing his back, soothingly.

"This," said Tom, when he managed to regain control of his tongue. "This is what's wrong. I _want_  to tell you Harry. I really do. But I _can't._ Every time I try-" It happened again. Tom whined in frustration while Voldemort gloated about his superior magic in the back of his mind.

"Stop it!" screamed Tom, slapping his forehead. "Stop doing this! This is _my_  body, you rotten _parasite!"_

"Wha- Tom?" asked Harry in confusion. But Tom wasn't listening anymore. He was too busy berating the demon in his mind to notice the look of sudden understanding that crossed Harry's face.

 _Shut your stupid mouth!_ hissed Voldemort. _I am no parasite. I am a Prince of Egypt. I am Voldemort, he who will rule this world. Your body is mine now. Your soul is mine. Your husband is mine!_

"He's not yours!" screamed Tom, pulling at his own hair. "He's _my_  Harry. I married him. He's _my_  husband. You can't have him. I won't let you!"

"Tom, come here," said Harry, pulling on his arm. He led them to the fireplace and grabbed a pinch of floo powder.

"Where are we going?" asked Tom, wiping at tears that had formed on the corner of his eye without his notice.

"St-Mungo's," said Harry. "I know what's wrong. Mum told me about this a long time ago. We'll find the right treatment. Don't worry, love."

"Wait," said Tom, pulling his arm free. "What exactly do you think is wrong with me? How are the healers supposed to help? Shouldn't we go to the Department of Mysteries?" Harry shook his head and grabbed Tom's arm again.

"It happens when you have muggle blood, sweetheart," said Harry. "Mum told me all about it. She's seen it multiple times with muggleborns that come to her. It's not curable. You might have to live with it till you die. But we can manage it. We can make it better."

 _"What_ do you think I have, Harry?" demanded Tom, dread pooling in his stomach. He had a feeling that Harry had terribly misunderstood what was going on, here.

"Well, you're having auditory hallucinations, right?" said Harry. He wasn't expecting an answer as he barreled on in his explanation. "Mum calls is skizoo- skitzoo- ah! Schizophrenia! Yes, that's it. Schizophrenia."

"You think I have schizophrenia?" repeated Tom, dumbly.

"Don't worry, love," said Harry. "Mum's treated it many times. You'll be fine in a jiffy. Let's go."

 _In my time, we called it what it was_ , hissed Voldemort, sounding very amused. _Possession._

"I don't have schizophrenia, you idiot!" shrieked Tom. "It's not just any fucking voice. It's a whole person in my head. A pervert old man who's lusting after my husband and wants to enslave the whole world!"

"I can see you're not in your right mind," said Harry, shaking his head. "Just come with me, love. Let's not do this the hard way."

"I'm not _crazy!"_ yelled Tom. He pulled his arm away, again, and decked Harry upside the head. _"Listen_  to me, would you?"

"The hard way, it is," sighed Harry.

"Wha-"

"Somnus."

***

Tom woke up, gradually. Standing over him and speaking in whispers were Lily Potter and Harry.

"...nothing wrong with him," Lily was saying. "At least, not medically. Maybe put a bit more faith in his words. He's your _husband._ Dammit, Harry. How are you exactly like your father?"

"But he's hearing a _voice,_ mummy," insisted Harry.

"Yes," agreed Lily. "And yet, he's coming up negative for schizophrenia. What does that say to you?"

"That we should check for DID?" said Harry, tentatively. Lily took a deep breath and let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Good fucking Merlin," she said, at last. "Where did I go _wrong_  with you? Fine. We'll check him for DID. That'll take a bit longer. I want you to go fetch me an Unspeakable in the meantime."

"You're the best, mummy," said Harry. He kissed her on the cheek and sauntered off. Idiot.

"He's gone," said Lily once Harry was out the door. "I apologise for the sheer stupidity. It's not from my side of the family."

"I gathered," said Tom, sitting up in the hospital bed he'd been lying in. "I love him, but he's an idiot."

"I want to be offended," said Lily as she waved her wand around his head in the complex pattern required for a DID test, "but I wake up with that phrase, every damn morning. It was worse when they lived under the same roof. Good thing their line ends with them."

 _What is an Unspeakable?_  asked Voldemort, suddenly. _What is it they cannot speak of?_

"You'll find out soon enough, scum," said Tom, smugly. Immediately, his head burst into pain the likes of which he'd only experienced in the bastard's tomb.

 _I am not scum!_  hissed Voldemort. _I am not filthy. I am not lesser than anyone! I am mighty and all will tremble before me!_  He held the spell for another few moments before he let go. Tom had bitten his lips bloody, attempting to keep the screams in.

"Was that him?" asked Lily, smoothing a worried hand in his hair. "Was that the thing possessing you?"

 _I am NOT A THING!_ screamed Voldemort. _I won't allow you to call me that. No one can ever call me that again. No one!_  With great horror, Tom felt Voldemort's consciousness expanding from the back of his mind, to his limbs.

"No," he whispered. "Run!" But Lily did not run. She stared at him in confusion and growing alarm.

"What's wro-"

Tom watched his hand shoot up and grab Lily's throat. He tried to let go, but the limb did not respond. In fact, it squeezed tighter and Tom attempted to scream for help. But his lips would not move.

"No peasant girl can call me a thing," said Voldemort. With a jolt, Tom realised that the words were coming out of his mouth. The voice was his but the words were not.

 _No,_ begged Tom, relegated to the back of his own mind. _No, you can't do this. She's Harry's mum. Stop it!_

"You could be Harry's daughter and I would not care," said Voldemort. There was an odd, hissing, quality to his voice. Like an aftertaste of parseltongue. But he was speaking English, as if he had been doing so his whole life. " _No one_  calls Prince Voldemort a thing. Even my father learnt to fear me in the end. And he was a Pharaoh. What are you, peasant girl? What are you? Face my wrath!"

 _NO!_ screamed Tom. _NO! Stop, please. Stop. Don't do this. Don't kill her. Give me back my body!_

But Voldemort did not listen. He continued to squeeze Lily's throat and Tom could do nothing as her eyes rolled back into her head and she began to drool. Then, Voldemort got impatient. He reached with Tom's other arm and snapped her neck. Satisfied, Voldemort let her go and she fell to the floor, dead. He got up from the bed and stepped over her body.

"Now," said Voldemort, "what is an Unspeakable?"

 _Someone who's going to throw you out of my body,_  hissed Tom, viciously. _Enjoy my body while you can, Voldemort. Soon, Harry will be back with someone to destroy you_.

"Destroy me," repeated Voldemort. He laughed and laughed, loud and cruel. "You think a mere mortal can harm Prince Voldemort. Have you any idea how many people died to put me in that sarcophagus you so carelessly opened? Alright, then. Let me see what your little Unspeakable can do. Let me see how they fare against the might of Prince Voldemort."

He sat down next to Lily's cooling corpse and began to play with her long, red hair, braiding it and knotting it skillfully. By the time Harry dragged a ruffled Cedric Diggory into the hospital room, he'd had it up in an intricate hairstyle and her head was in his lap.

"What're you two doing?" Harry asked as he rounded the bed.

"Harry," Voldemort smiled at him. He got up, allowing Lily's body to fall with a dull thunk. Harry's eyes followed the movement, confused as to what he was seeing. Cedric was much faster. He pulled Harry away from Voldemort's approaching arms and stood with his wand in the demon's face.

"You're not Tom," said Cedric. "Who are you?"

"What do you mean, he's not Tom?" demanded Harry.

"Harry, he's clearly possessed," said Cedric, as if he was speaking to a very slow child. "Look at his bloody eyes! There's a red ring around them. Why didn't you bring him straight to me?!" Tom had always been slightly jealous of Cedric. He knew the man had had a crush on Harry when they'd still been in school and, if he'd done anything about it, Harry might've ended up marrying him, instead. But, in that moment, Tom could not have been more grateful for Cedric fucking Diggory.

"O-oh," said Harry. "Okay. Um... What's wrong with mum? Why's she on the floor?"

"Oh, Harry," said Cedric, eyes filled with pity.

"She's not dead, right?" asked Harry, tears gathering in his eyes. "You didn't kill her, did you, Tom?"

 _I didn't_ , said Tom. _Not me. It was him. It was Voldemort._

"She called me a thing, Harry," explained Voldemort. "I couldn't let that go. I'm not a thing. I'm a person. I- Look at me. I'm real, aren't I? I'm a person. She had no right to call me a _thing!"_

"So," said Harry, crying in earnest, "you killed her?"

"Harry," whined Voldemort, reaching for him. But Harry jerked back, horrified.

"You killed my mum," accused Harry. "You're not Tom. Tom is a good man. My Tom would never do something like this."

 _Yes, Harry_ , agreed Tom, weeping with him. _I would never do something so terrible to you._

"Tom is gone!" snarled Voldemort. "There's only me, now. I am Prince Voldemort and you will love me, husband."

"I'm not your husband!" shrieked Harry at the same time as Tom yelled _He's not your husband._

"I don't know what delusion you're operating under," interrupted Cedric, "but you don't get to possess Tom and then claim what belongs to him. His marriage to Harry doesn't just pass on to you. You're leaving them alone." And with that, he began muttering a complex series of spells.

It was immediately clear to Tom that it wasn't working. He had access to Voldemort's feelings and all he could sense from the man was a feeling of smug superiority.

"Silly boy," chuckled Voldemort. "Your spells are like so many flies buzzing around my head. _This_  is how you will exorcise me? Prince Voldemort? Oh, child. There have been priests more powerful than you that have burned under the great eye of my wrath. I am blessed by Apophis, himself. I am blessed by the Serpent of Chaos. ı͗zft flows in me like blood in your veins. Your weak understanding of Ma'at is not enough to harm me."

"Blessed by Apep," muttered Cedric. "Thank you for the hint." Cedric grinned and his chanting changed. Now Tom could feel Voldemort's fear. Now the demon began to take Cedric seriously.

 _That's it,_  gloated Tom. _That's it, isn't it? He's got you now. Oh, if only you'd kept your mouth shut_. But that did not increase Voldemort's fear. In fact, Tom could feel their lips turn up in a smile.

"You know of Apep," said Voldemort. "You know of ı͗zft. But what can you do about it if you are not alive, anymore?"

He began to approach Cedric, decision clear in his mind. He was going to kill one of Harry's best friends. Right after killing his mother. No. No, Tom could not let that happen.

How had Voldemort done it? How had he taken Tom's body? Tom looked for something, anything he could exploit, any weakness in Voldemort's ironclad control of Tom. It took a moment, and Voldemort was already at Cedric's neck, pulling the air out of his lungs, when Tom finally managed to retake control of his voice and lips.

"Harry," called Tom. Harry was standing to the side, obviously in a stupor, watching Cedric with eyes as glassy as Voldemort's on that ill-fated day Tom had met him. "Harry, snap out of it. He's going to kill Cedric!"

"W-what do I do?" asked Harry. And here, Tom considered his options. Only Cedric could take Voldemort out of Tom's body. But Cedric was dying and Tom couldn't regain control of his limbs, let alone his magic. There was a possibility that some other Unspeakable knew just as much about Ma'at as Cedric but it would be too late for the man if they waited for another Unspeakable. By then, Cedric would be dead and Tom had no doubt Voldemort would run away. Tom remembered Nuzrath's warning.

_He is calamity. He is disaster. He is the end of the world!_

There was no other choice.

"Kill me," said Tom. "Kill me. He can't get away. Kill me, Harry."

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "There has to be another way. No, I won't do it."

 _See?_  growled Voldemort, viciously pleased. _See how he loves me? He could never kill me_. Tom ignored him. There was no time to be lost, trying to explain how Harry loving _Tom_ was the reason Voldemort was still alive.

"Harry," reasoned Tom. "If he gets away, it doesn't end with me. If he gets away, everyone is in danger. Cedric will die first. Do you think he'll stop with Cedric? He already killed your mum. Next, it could be your dad, then Sirius, then Remus. Gods, Harry. It could be _Teddy._ Little Teddy who confuses you with his dad. Why does he even do that? You don't look a thing like Remus."

"He doesn't understand the difference between dad and godfather," wailed Harry. "He knows I'm not Remus. He just assumes that we're both dad."

"Oh," said Tom. "Well, now I can die with one more mystery resolved."

"I can't kill you," wept Harry. "I _love_  you."

"You'll kill me _because_  you love me," said Tom. "Harry, please. You're an auror. Sworn to protect the people. Do your fucking job!"

"Tom," whined Harry. But Tom could see in his eyes that he'd come to the same conclusion. He pulled out his wand and pointed it towards Tom.

"I love you, too," said Tom. Harry nodded, still crying. Cedric let out a choked sound, scrabbling at Tom's hand. It was all the motivation Harry needed.

"Avada Kedavra!"

***

"Cedric," called Harry. "Cedric, are you okay?" He was wiping tears from his eyes and he looked so miserable. Poor thing.

"I'm- Yeah," said Cedric. "I'm fine. I- what happened?"

"I killed him," cried Harry, throwing himself into Cedric's arms. "I killed him." Killed? Oh. Cedric stared at Tom's lifeless body. His dark eyes were glazed over and he looked so very peaceful.

"I'm sorry," said Cedric, desolately. "If only I'd been stronger." Harry shook his head against Cedric's shoulder, drenching it in snot and tears. It took a lot of comforting and reassuring to get Harry to go to his dad and let Cedric and the aurors take care of Tom's body.

"We'll get him to you, Harry," promised Cedric. "We'll bring him and your mum to your dad's house. Go to him. He'll need you and you need him." Harry nodded and left with one of his auror friends who was to make sure he got home in one piece.

Cedric did as promised, gave the aurors an account of what had happened and told them to bring both bodies to Godric's hollow. By the time he got home, he was so emotionally exhausted that he barely greeted Cho. He fell into bed, face first, robes still on.

 _You shall do, I suppose_.

**Author's Note:**

> *Eyes brick in your hand nervously*
> 
> Um, whatchoo gonna do with that?


End file.
